


Sticks and Stones

by country13



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Broken Bones, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, marriage talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:13:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/country13/pseuds/country13
Summary: A rewrite of 10x8 where Mickey doesn't punch Ian and we find out what happens after Ian falls down the stairs at the courthouse.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 14
Kudos: 160





	Sticks and Stones

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic came from the fact that Mickey punching Ian in 10x8 has always bugged me, so I wanted to rewrite it and tell my version of what I would rather have happen instead. 
> 
> The conversation in the elevator is pretty much verbatim from the show because I wanted to keep that emotion and angst and plus, that scene was just fantastic. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!

Sticks and Stones

_These sticks and stones may break me_

_But the words you said just tore my heart in two_

Mickey put all of the anger and hurt he had in him behind the punch of the button in the elevator for the ground floor of the Cook County Courthouse. Ian was steadily pleading beside him but the damage had already been done. Mickey was hurt, humiliated, and generally just pissed the fuck off.

Ever since he and Ian had been sitting in Patsy’s that morning with Ian talking to him about getting married and looking at him with those puppy dog eyes that he knew always did Mickey in, Mickey had been a bundle of nerves. On one hand, the fact that Ian even wanted to consider marrying Mickey made him happier than he would ever admit. He fucking loved that redhead with his whole heart and soul-more than he’d ever loved anything or anybody in his entire life-and he knew there would never be anyone else for him. Hell, if he was being honest, he knew it back when they were just kids meeting up at the dugouts to fuck their brains out.

On the other hand, Mickey was scared shitless. Even though Ian had claimed they would be getting married because they “fucking love each other,” that wasn’t his only reason for bringing it up. Ian had claimed that if they got married, they couldn’t testify against each other in court over the suspicious death of their PO, Paula. Mickey had already heard about that from, of all places, his own damn house. It’s called, “spousal privilege,” according to some shitheads Terry had working for him.

Mickey didn’t kill the crazy bitch, even though he had thought about it over and over in his head a thousand times. They had both thought the other one was guilty of doing it before Mickey had gotten the news report on his phone from his PO, Larry (who was assigned back to him when Paula died) that confirmed that Shelly, Paula’s associate and girlfriend, popped her.

And that’s what had landed them here in this elevator-no marriage license signed, no wedding plans being discussed. As soon as Ian saw the news video, he did a complete 180. They had the marriage license right there in front of them, ready to sign. Ian had the damn pen in his hand hovering over the signature line, the clerk sitting there patiently waiting for him to sign, and he couldn’t do it. After all his talk about them loving each other being the reason they were going to get married. Guess it was all just bullshit.

Mickey even asked him if the only reason he proposed was because Ian thought he was fucking guilty. Ian had the audacity to say that Mickey was the one prone to murder. Who the hell had he ever murdered? It was like Ian didn’t know him at all. Why would Ian even want to marry him if he believed Mickey was capable of murder?

The realization that just loving each other wasn’t the primary reason for Ian wanting them to get married hit Mickey like a punch in the gut. Ian had brought the shit up, had talked him into it, and made him actually excited about the idea. Mickey knew Ian would always be the one who he would make that kind of commitment to if it ever came to that, but honestly thought they were years away from actually going through with it.

Milkoviches didn’t have the best track record with any kind of commitment, especially marriage. Mickey never believed he was good enough, never believed he deserved to be happy. Ian was the one person who made him believe he might be able to have those things one day, that maybe he actually deserved them. Ian changed everything and made Mickey believe and hope for a long, happy life together with him.

Mickey had never actually even had marriage on his mind until Ian uttered the word. Hell, it wasn’t until a few years ago that people like them could even get legally married. Another reason why Mickey didn’t think it would ever be in the cards for him. But now it was possible. Mickey and Ian could have their happy ending after all. And he wanted it. Fuck, did he want it. He didn’t know how bad until Ian sat across from him in that diner reaching out his hand to him and telling Mickey how much he loved and trusted him. _Trust_. Man, that was a big fucking deal. Because Mickey trusted Ian too. With everything he had. In fact, Ian was the only person in the world Mickey trusted completely. The only person who knew him deep down and would ever know him in that way. But with one clatter of his unused pen on that counter, Ian shattered every precious piece of that trust. Not to mention his heart.

Standing here now, in this elevator, anger emanating off of him, the stubborn tears burning his eyes, begging to be released, he couldn’t help but wonder if Ian ever really knew him at all.

“Leave me alone, Gallagher,” Mickey muttered.

“It’s just I hadn’t really thought this marriage shit through. I don’t know, I didn’t think we were going to be having the fucking conversation today.”

Anger bubbled up in Mickey’s chest, exploding from him like a fired cannon ball. “Then why the fuck did you bring it up?! The whole thing was your fucking idea! You talked me into this shit!”

Mickey’s voice cracked with emotion, the small space they were in getting smaller by the second. Mickey was shuffling from foot to foot now, feeling like the walls were closing in on him.

“I know! I know!” Ian shouted. “Frank and Monica aren’t exactly the fucking picture of marital bliss, okay?” Mickey turned to him and stared incredulously. Was he really talking about his parents? Frank and Monica were the fucking Brady’s compared to what he grew up with. He could fuck right off with that shit. “I don’t really have a frame of reference to connect this shit to.”

“Oh, poor fucking you,” Mickey spat.

“It’s not personal.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine,” Mickey mumbled as he stepped out of the now-open elevator.

“It’s not personal,” Ian tried again. “Mickey, I love you!” Ian’s now-empty words rang hollow in Mickey’s ears as he shoved open the glass door leading to the outside stairs.

Mickey ran down the stairs, Ian stopping at the top of the staircase.

“It’s-it’s marriage that I don’t know if I love, you know? Maybe, I-I….I don’t know.” Mickey took out a much-needed cigarette, his hands shaking so bad he could barely hold it still long enough to light it. He faced away from Ian, looking out at all of the people speeding by, going about their everyday lives, oblivious to the fact that Mickey’s had just fallen apart right in front of him in a matter of minutes. “But you’re right, it is-it is really fucking important, so can we just talk about it for one second, please? I-I…I wanna know how you feel, you know?”

Oh that was rich. Ian knew how he fucking felt and he’d be damned if he was going to spell it out for him. He shouldn’t have to. He chuckled wryly, turning to face Ian, the cigarette smoke punching out of his mouth.

Mickey’s hurt-filled eyes locked on Ian’s regretful ones as he threw the cigarette down somewhere toward the bottom of the stairs. Ian was still standing in his same spot, looking down at him with those same puppy dog eyes Mickey usually fell for. Not this time.

Mickey stomped up the steps, his eyes never leaving Ian’s, each step he had to take to get to Ian just making him more hurt and more angry. When he finally reached him and could see the tears streaming down his face, all it did was remind him of the endless tears he had shed over Ian for so many years. Now it was his fucking turn to cry.

“Just admit it, Ian. You never wanted to marry me. You can spout all the ‘frame of reference’ bullshit you want, but what it boils down to is you don’t love me enough to want to marry me. I never thought I’d see the day where I would say this about you, but you’re a fucking coward. Just leave me the fuck alone.”

With that, Mickey turned and stalked back down the stairs.

“Mickey!” He heard Ian call after him, but he kept walking, his anger and hurt spurring him on.

As he was about to round the corner from the courthouse, he heard Ian scream, and then heard loud grunting along with gasps from what sounded like several people. What the hell? Silently cursing himself the whole time, he turned back around and made his way back to the courthouse stairs to see what was going on, and what he saw made his blood run cold. Ian was lying at the bottom of the stairs, his leg twisted in a way it was not meant to go. Mickey immediately shot forward.

“Ian! Ian!” By now, a crowd had gathered around Ian’s limp body, passersby just standing around gawking. Mickey reached the throng of people and began shoving bodies. “Get the fuck out of my way, assholes!”

He finally got to Ian and knelt down beside him, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Mickey?” Ian asked weakly.

“I’m here, Ian,” Mickey said, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’m calling 911.” Just as the 911 operator answered, somebody’s knee bumped Mickey’s elbow, knocking his phone out of his hand and causing it to slide with a loud scrape across the ground.

As soon as he retrieved his phone, he turned on the crowd with an angry scowl. “You useless fucks need to step the fuck back!”

“Sir? Hello?” He heard the 911 operator ask from the phone.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Mickey answered urgently, kneeling back down at Ian’s side, who was holding his leg and moaning in pain.

After Mickey gave the operator the information, she reassured him that an ambulance would be there in under ten minutes. Thankfully the crowd heeded Mickey’s warning and had dissipated, leaving them alone.

“This really fucking hurts, Mick,” Ian gritted through clenched teeth. Seeing Ian in pain shattered Mickey’s heart and brought him back to a time when Ian was hurting in a way that Mickey couldn’t do anything about. At least this hurt he could fix.

“How the hell did this happen, anyway?” Mickey noticed the hard cement digging into his knees for the first time and sat cross-legged next to Ian’s pitiful form. “You forget how to walk, genius?” he teased, deciding to try to lighten the mood, since there was no way in hell Mickey was going to let on just how scared he was right now.

Ian reached up with his free hand to take Mickey’s, ignoring his sarcasm. Mickey watched as the pained expression on his face turned to utter sadness, his creased brows smoothing out, and the unshed tears forming in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mickey. I handled that whole situation wrong, I.....I am a fucking idiot.”

Mickey’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What are you talking about, Gallagher?”

“About what I said to you back there.” Ian nodded toward the doors of the courthouse.

Realization finally dawned on Mickey about what Ian was referring to and the pain of Ian’s words came flooding back. With everything that had transpired in the last few minutes, Mickey had forgotten all about the shit show from earlier. He really would have rather not been reminded. But they could worry about that shit later. The main thing right now was getting Ian to the hospital.

“Don’t worry about that shit right now, Gallagher. Oh shit, that reminds me,” Mickey remarked, taking his phone back out. “I need to call your family.”

“Not right now, Mickey,” Ian argued while trying to swat his phone away. “I’m trying to talk to you and tell you how fucking sorry I am.”

Ignoring Ian’s pleas with a roll of his eyes, Mickey dialed Lip, silently hoping that he would only need to make the one call and that he could pass the news along to the whole clan.

On the third ring, Lip answered. “Hello?”

“Lip, it’s Mickey.”

“Ay, what’s up?” Mickey could hear the confusion and apprehension in Lip’s voice. That was understandable considering that he could count on one hand the number of times he had called Lip for anything.

“Look, I’m here with Ian at the courthouse,” Mickey began, rubbing his forehead, trying to snuff out the beginnings of a headache.

“Ah, so do I have to start calling you Mickey Gallagher? Or is it Ian Milkovich?” Lip snorted, amused with himself. Arrogant prick.

Mickey didn’t know what to be more annoyed by-the fact that Ian had obviously talked to Lip about their situation (which really shouldn’t have surprised him considering how close they were) or the fact that he was making stupid jokes about their last names. He decided both were pissing him off equally.

“Would you shut the fuck up? Ian fell down the stairs outside the courthouse and hurt his leg pretty bad. We’re waiting on the ambulance to get here.”

“Holy shit. Where are they taking him?”

Mickey could hear clanging tools and a tool box snapping shut echoing in the background.

“I don’t know yet. Probably County General. It’s closest. But I’ll text you and let you know when I find out.”

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll call the fam. And Kev and V.” _Thank fuck._

“Ok. See you at the place.”

Just as they hung up, Mickey heard the sirens in the distance. “About fucking time,” he groused, even though realistically, it had only been about ten minutes. He turned his attention back to Ian. “Lip is coming and he’s going to call everybody else.”

“Mickey, listen to me,” Ian pleaded between groans of pain, ignoring Mickey’s news. “I didn’t mean….”

“Later, Gallagher,” Mickey dismissed with a wave of his hand, watching the paramedics jump out of the ambulance and spring into action. The two EMTs ran up to them and immediately began taking his vitals and assessing Ian’s injuries. Mickey stepped back out of their way, lighting up a cigarette and sucking on it nervously.

“How bad is it?” Mickey asked after a few torturous minutes, his voice shaky.

One of the EMTs ran back to their truck for something, while the other one started cutting Ian’s pants leg open before cutting off his sock and shoe as well. It was then that Mickey saw Ian’s foot and ankle had turned into a complete 180, the bone poking out from under his skin. Holy shit.

Mickey was so focused on looking at his leg and how fucked it was, that he jumped when the EMT answered him. “It looks like an open distal fibia fracture, but we won’t know anything for sure until we get him to the hospital and they take some x-rays.”

“Can you speak fucking English please?” Mickey grumbled, stomping out his half-smoked cigarette.

“It’s a broken leg,” the EMT answered sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Mickey resisted the urge to punch him in his smartass mouth. The other EMT came back again with a backboard and they loaded Ian onto it a little too roughly for Mickey’s liking. “Ay, easy, you pricks!”

As they carried Ian to the ambulance, the smartass EMT called back to Mickey, who was following close behind them. “What’s your name?”

“Mickey. Mickey Milkovich,” he answered, wincing as Ian screamed in pain when they jostled him a little to get him on the gurney and into the back of the ambulance.

“What’s your relationship to Mr. Gallagher?” the EMT asked him as the other one jumped into the back of the ambulance with Ian.

Fuck, what was he supposed to say? He didn’t know what the fuck they were anymore. After what happened, he assumed they were broken up. Ian obviously didn’t know what the hell he wanted. Before his mind rambled anymore about their confusing as fuck situation, Ian spoke up from the back of the ambulance right before the doors were slammed shut.

“He’s my fiancé.”

Mickey blinked, stunned into silence at Ian’s words. He assumed Ian just said that so that he could ride with him to the hospital. That had to be the only reason.

“Great, you can ride in the front with me,” smartass EMT said, nodding toward the passenger side of the ambulance.

Without another word, they jumped in the truck and sped off toward the hospital.

_________________________

Mickey sat in the surgical waiting room, his knee bouncing nervously and his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he glanced around at all of the Gallaghers surrounding him. And Kev and V. On one hand, he was glad that Ian had support from his family, but on the other hand, he really just wanted to be alone with the millions of emotions that were rushing through him.

After they arrived at the ER and the doctors took x-rays of Ian’s leg, they determined that he needed to have surgery to repair the damage. Thankfully, Mickey didn’t have to cuss out the doctor that treated him, since he explained what was going on in laymen’s terms so he could understand.

Mickey had never known anyone to have surgery. Even with his family and all their run-ins with drug dealers and shit, nobody had ever gotten so badly beat up that they needed surgery. Or so they claimed. Milkoviches didn’t do hospitals. But the fact that it was Ian made it that much worse. Even with everything that happened at the courthouse, Mickey still loved Ian. He couldn’t fake that. He couldn’t erase ten years of history.

Mickey would trade places with Ian in a heartbeat. He wished like hell that it was him on that operating table. The guilt he felt was overwhelming him. If he hadn’t walked away from Ian, he would never have run down those stairs and tried to catch up to him. This was all his fault. He was the reason Ian was hurt, the reason Ian was getting cut open. His heart ached in his chest at the thought.

“Stop it,” a gruff voice said from beside him. Mickey glanced over to see Lip sit down in the empty chair beside him, holding a Snickers bar out to him.

Mickey shook his head before Lip snatched the candy back and tore the wrapper open, taking a big bite.

“Stop what?” Mickey asked, screwing his face up in confusion.

Lip swallowed his bite and took a swig of his Dr. Pepper before answering. “Stop beating yourself up over what happened.”

Was he really that transparent? How did he know what the hell was going through Mickey’s mind?

“You don’t know shit about what I’m thinking,” Mickey scoffed, his voice betraying him. Suddenly he was feeling like he was the one cut open, his heart exposed for all the world to see.

“I talked to Ian while he was waiting on the doctor to see him in the ER. He said you were filling out paperwork in the lobby.” Lip paused to gauge Mickey’s reaction. He glanced over at him, but Mickey kept looking stubbornly straight ahead. “He told me what happened.” Lip’s voice was laced with sympathy. Sympathy Mickey didn’t ask for or need, especially not from him.

Mickey nodded, sighing loudly. “Of course he did.” Fucking Gallaghers. As if on cue, he felt all of their eyes on him. They all sat in the row of chairs in front of him, just staring at him. It wasn’t helping Mickey’s nervousness one bit.

“My brother’s a fucking idiot,” Lip said suddenly, shaking his head. “I told him as much too.”

“What?” Mickey’s eyebrows rose high on his head at Lip’s confession.

“Oh yeah,” Lip nodded as he crossed his arms and sat back, resting an ankle on top of his knee. “You know, I think it’s a Gallagher curse. Anytime we have something good, we do whatever we can to fuck it up. Ian’s obviously not immune to it. He may be an idiot, but he loves you. I know he does, Mick. He told me he wanted to be with you.”

“Just not married to me,” Mickey muttered lowly. By the time he realized that he had said those words out loud, Lip was standing up and nodding toward the waiting room door, silently telling Mickey to follow him.

They walked to the elevator, rode down to the first floor, and headed toward the exit. Lip was pulling his pack of cigarettes from his pocket along with a lighter before they even made it outside. He shook the pack until one popped up and offered it to Mickey. Mickey took it eagerly along with the lighter Lip offered him and lit it up, taking a long, satisfying drag. He could already feel his nerves calming.

“Looked like you needed it,” Lip remarked with a smirk.

Mickey blew the smoke out of his nose as he nodded in agreement. “That’s the understatement of the fucking century.”

Lip chuckled as he blew out the smoke from his own cigarette. “Look, man. I know us Gallaghers can be a lot. Hell, you Milkoviches are no fucking picnic either. But don’t give up on Ian. He’ll come around to the idea of marriage. He’s just fucking scared. It has nothing to do with you or how he feels about you. That I know for a fact.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil,” Mickey retorted, knocking the ash off the butt of his smoke. “How much do I owe you?”

“Thousand bucks,” Lip shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Fuck you,” Mickey replied, his middle finger automatically shooting up. They both shared a small laugh before the mood turned serious again.

“Look, you know me, right?” Mickey asked rhetorically, pointing his finger at his own chest. “I’ve put up with Ian and all his crazy for ten years, Lip. And he’s put up with mine. Why in the fuck would I give up now? We’ve been through too much. It just fucking hurt, you know? Hearing him say he didn’t want to marry me. Obviously, we have a lot to talk out.” Mickey began pacing back and forth in the small designated smoking area. “But dammit, I love your idiot brother. Nothing’s ever going to change that.”

“I know,” Lip whispered, emotion lacing his voice. “You know, there are a lot of things I don’t know about the world….”

“What?” Mickey said in feigned shock. “There are things that Lip Gallagher doesn’t know?”

“Would you shut the fuck up, dude? I’m going for a sincere moment here.”

Mickey swept his hand out in front of him in a ‘please continue’ gesture.

“As I was saying, there are lot of things I don’t know about the world, but one thing I do know is how much you love my brother. You have proven that a hundred times over and I just wanted you to know that I appreciate everything you’ve done for him. And I couldn’t ask for a better partner for him.”

Mickey could feel Lip’s eyes on him, but he just couldn’t look at him. The lump in his throat was choking him, and the unshed tears were stinging his eyes. This was the first time any Gallagher had given him any credit where Ian was concerned, and Mickey didn’t know how to handle it.

Mickey didn’t think he had done anything so great that deserved words like that. He just loved Ian. He did what you were supposed to do when you love someone. Or so he thought. Ian was his family and always would be. Married or not.

Mickey’s eyes stayed trained on the cracks in the cement under his feet as he swiped his thumb across his lip. He heard Lip move closer to him and briefly looked up to see Lip smiling sincerely at him. He slapped Mickey on the back and put his arm around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go check on my idiot brother.”

Mickey sniffed and wiped inconspicuously at his eyes as they both stubbed out their cigarettes in the designated ash tray. “Let’s go.”

_______________________

A few hours later that felt like an eternity, Ian was finally out of surgery and in recovery. The doctor came out and explained to them that he had a 16 inch titanium rod installed through his bone to help set it and begin the healing process. He had to stay in the hospital a few more days before being released. After that, he would need to do about six months of physical therapy.

The doctor said that he could have one visitor at a time, and they all agreed without question that Mickey would be the first. When the doctor tried to question Mickey’s familial relationship, the Gallaghers all but called the man a homophobic prick and told him they were going to report his ass to the medical board for not letting Mickey see his “husband.”

Mickey feigned annoyance but inside, pride bloomed in his chest. He knew how crazy it was to think, but for the first time, he truly felt like part of a family.

The nurse came to get him and brought him back to Ian’s room. Before opening the door, he peered into the small window in the door. There he was, lying still in his bed, his eyes closed. The relief that washed over Mickey at just the sight of Ian alive and (sort of) well was palpable. He didn’t want to wake him up, but he had to see him, to touch him. Just to know for sure that he was alright.

He took a deep breath before pushing open the door and stepping lightly inside. As he made his way to Ian’s bedside, he took in all of the tubes attached to him, the steady beep of the machines he was hooked up to, the whoosh of air from his oxygen. All things considered, he looked almost…..peaceful. Much more peaceful than Mickey was feeling at the moment. Seeing him so vulnerable with his leg wrapped in a cast, the bandages from surgery, hit him hard. He wished now more than ever that it was him lying here in that hospital bed and not Ian.

He stood there for a few minutes just watching him sleep, relief flooding him with each rise and fall of his chest. He realized it was just a broken leg, but fuck. It was surgery and anything could happen. He sure as hell didn’t trust any of the sawbones in this place. But he was at least thankful for the one who fixed Ian. Even if he was a homophobic prick.

He smiled at the memory of the Gallaghers standing up for him as he carefully took Ian’s hand in his own. He lightly carded his fingers through the red hair that he loved so much. It was a little damp with sweat but Mickey didn’t give a shit. He was about to lean down and place a light kiss on Ian’s forehead when he felt a small squeeze to his hand.

He looked down to see Ian looking up at him groggily. “Hey,” Mickey whispered before placing the kiss on Ian’s forehead that he had started.

“Hey, Mick,” Ian croaked, his throat sounding dry and scratchy.

“You need some ice chips? I can go get you some.”

“No!” Ian exclaimed. “Please don’t leave.”

“Okay, I won’t,” Mickey reassured with a squeeze to Ian’s hand. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a Mack truck,” Ian answered honestly, a small smile breaking out on his too beautiful face.

“You need more morphine?” Mickey asked, noticing the PCA pump button slung over the bed railing.

“No, I’m okay.” Ian shook his head weakly. “If I do that, I’ll fall asleep again and I don’t want to do that. You’re here.”

“Ian, if you need some relief….”

“Mick, I’m okay. Really,” Ian insisted. “I want to talk to you about what happened.”

Mickey rolled his eyes at Ian’s stubbornness. You’d think after ten years Mickey would be used to it by now, but it still got on his damn nerves. “We can talk about that later, Ian. You just need to worry about getting better.”

“No!” Ian tried to sit up, but moaned in pain, his head falling dejectedly back on the pillows. “Fuck.”

“Would you fucking stop? Goddammit, Ian!”

Mickey reached over to grab the morphine pump button, but Ian stopped him.

“I’m okay, I’m okay. I won’t try to move anymore, I promise.” Ian’s pleading eyes met Mickey’s and his resolve melted automatically.

“You are the most hardheaded son of a bitch I ever met,” Mickey grumbled with absolutely no venom. Ian obviously knew how much love was behind those words because he smiled sweetly up at him and made his heart melt into a puddle on the floor.

The smile morphed into a frown with Ian’s renewed purpose. “I’m so sorry, Mickey. I was completely wrong earlier about…..”

“It’s my fault,” Mickey interjected with a whisper, leaning down into Ian’s space, resting his chin on their joined hands.

Ian looked at him with honest confusion. “What’s your fault?”

“You being here in this bed, your leg all busted up.” Mickey stood up straight suddenly, pacing across the room while running his hands through his hair. “It’s all my fucking fault!”

“Come here, Mick.” Mickey chanced a glance at Ian who was coaxing him over with his hand. “Come here.”

Mickey walked tentatively back over to Ian, resuming his previous position after Ian reached for his hand and grabbed it tightly in his own. “If it hadn’t been for me, you….”

“Stop,” Ian demanded. “You listen to me, okay? If anybody is to blame here, it’s me. I’m the reason we were even in that situation to begin with. If I had just believed you when you said you didn’t kill Paula…”

“Well, to be fair, I thought you killed her too,” Mickey interrupted with a cock of his eyebrow.

“Anyway, that’s not important,” Ian said with a weak wave of his hand. “What I’m trying to say is that none of this is your fault. I take the blame for everything. You were right. I am a fucking coward.”

Mickey’s heart broke as he was reminded of his harsh words to Ian. “Ian, I didn’t mean….”

“No, you were right. I am scared. And I guess I didn’t explain myself very well earlier. You know I’m not good at talking about feelings and shit.”

“Like I am?” Mickey asked, rubbing his thumb back and forth over Ian’s knuckles, careful not to pull on his IV. “We usually fuck out our feelings. You know that, Ian.”

“True,” Ian agreed with a nod. “But that’s not the best way to handle things, no matter how fun it is.”

They both smiled, years of memories of doing just that flitting through both of their minds.

Shaking his head of those fond thoughts, Mickey’s eyes met Ian’s, who was staring at him pointedly. “Nobody in my life has ever been able to keep a steady relationship, much less a marriage. Hell, even Kev and V had issues and broke up for a while. I don’t know how to be a husband. I don’t know how to be married. I will probably suck balls at it. But what I do know is that I want it to be with you. That’s the one thing I’m sure of. I have a lot of doubts about all this shit, but you aren’t one of them.”

Mickey was stunned. Just fucking stunned. Ian really did love him. He really did want to marry him. He wanted to be his husband. He was so overwhelmed with emotion, he didn’t know what to say. He was literally speechless.

After a couple minutes, Mickey still hadn’t spoken. He just couldn’t form the words to express what he was feeling.

“Mick? Are you okay?” Ian asked, concern etched on his face. “You’re scaring me.”

Mickey’s eyes were glassed over with unshed tears. He was trying not to blink because he knew as soon as he did, the tears would slide down his face. Fuck it. He blinked and let the tears fall.

“I want it to be with you, too,” Mickey muttered, barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“I want it to be with you, too,” Mickey repeated, this time a little louder. “I’m scared as hell of marriage too. Look what I had as an example, you know? But there’s no one else I’d rather be scared with. You’re it for me, Ian.”

Mickey was about to wipe the tears from his eyes, but before he could, Ian pulled him down, cupping Mickey’s face in his hands, and kissed him. It was a sweet and tender kiss full of love, hope, and promise.

When the kiss ended, Ian ran his hands through Mickey’s hair while scanning his eyes up and down his face. “I love you, Mickey.”

Mickey’s eyes darted all over Ian’s face, making sure that this was really real. That he wasn’t imagining things. “I love you too, Ian.” Suddenly, a question popped into Mickey’s head. “So, does this mean we’re engaged?”

“Hell, no,” Ian replied. The hair on the back of Mickey’s neck stood up. He knew it was too good to be true. This was it. This was where Ian told him he didn’t want to marry him after all. “I want to do this shit right, and there is no way in hell we are getting engaged in a hospital. You won’t know how or when, but it’s coming. So you better be ready.”

Mickey laughed out loud, relief washing over him. “Ay, what if I want to ask you? Who says you get to do the proposing?”

“I’m the top,” Ian said matter-of-factly. “Everyone knows that in a gay relationship, the top always proposes.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Oh, please enlighten me, oh wise gay sage.” Ian laughed and it was the most beautiful sound to bless Mickey’s ears. “What if we both propose?”

Ian’s eyes went wide, obviously shocked at Mickey’s suggestion. He considered it, looking deep in thought for a minute before answering. “I like that. Okay, it’s settled,” Ian said with a clap of his hands. “We’ll propose to each other. Some day. When we’re both ready.”

“Agreed,” Mickey nodded. He glanced at the clock and realized that visiting hours would be over soon. “I better get out of here and let your family come back.”

“Mickey, you’re my family. Married or not.” Ian placed his other hand on top of their joined ones and smiled up at him. Mickey could feel the love emanating from him.

“You’re my family, too.” Mickey leaned down and kissed Ian’s forehead again before bringing his face close to Ian’s to whisper against his skin. “Always.” 

They kissed one more time before Mickey reluctantly pulled away and turned to head toward the door. “Hey, Mick?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Mickey asked as he turned back toward Ian after pulling the door open.

Ian shrugged. “Just for being you.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, but the wide grin that broke out on his face didn’t lie. “Right back at you, Gallagher.”

With a wink, Mickey closed the door behind him and headed back down the hall toward the waiting room, his steps lighter than they had been in a long fucking time. 

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic and the lyrics at the beginning come from the song, "Sticks and Stones," by Tracy Lawrence. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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